Hand Of Sorrow
by fearofdreams93
Summary: This is the story of how a boy and a demon defied destiny and loyalties, stood up against Heaven and Hell, and became brothers. AU, gen.
1. Chapter 1

_Warnings: None for this chapter._

_Disclaimer: I don't own 'em._

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><p><em>Hand Of Sorrow - Within Temptation<em>

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><p><strong>Chapter 1<strong>

For the first time in centuries Hell was abuzz with excitement and anticipation. Azazel, one of the Firsts, needed to enlist three demons for a task on Earth.

Two demons had already been summoned which left one position available and to say that he wasn't excited by the possibility of it being filled by him would be a complete lie.

If he was summoned it would be his first time out of Hell and, from what he'd heard, it would mean he would be assigned to an extremely important task. Many of the other demons scoffed at his excitement saying that he didn't have a chance. He knew that he was young in demon terms - only just turned two hundred - but he had quickly proven himself to his superiors with his torture skills and fierce loyalty. And loyalty amongst demons was little to none. So he waited, quietly confident that he had a shot at being summoned.

As the anticipation started to reach unbearable proportions, he suddenly felt a sharp tug calling him to the surface. Pride and excitement bubbled up in him. He was being summoned! Without any hesitation, he let himself be pulled up and out of Hell.

_TBC..._

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><p><em>AN: I know it's short but the next (longer) part will be up tomorrow after I'm at least half satisfied with it. I started writing this story about 7 months ago so although it will include some of Supernatural's story line from S1-5 there probably won't be much in terms of S6, but you never know. _

_Please review :)_


	2. Chapter 2

_Warnings: Depiction of a dead child._

_Disclaimer: I don't own 'em_

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><p><em>The child without a name grew up to be the hand - Within Temptation<em>

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><p><strong>Chapter 2<strong>

**Lawrence, Kansas  
><strong>**1983**

At first, there was only a blinding white light and indistinguishable static but gradually shapes and sounds began to form. He found himself in a room, a nursery if he wasn't mistaken. He could see three human figures standing around the summoning circle, waiting. Upon closer examination he could tell that the younger two – a man and woman – where possessed by the two previously summoned demons. The third human, an older man, was possessed by none other than Azazel himself.

This discovery caused another flutter of excitement to move through him, he'd already known that it was Azazel's summoning ritual but to actually confirm that it was indeed Azazel who wanted him made him swell with pride. He still remembered how in his first years as a demon, Azazel had taken him under his wing, helping him to perfect his torture technique and pretty much became his mentor.

"Hello," Azazel greeted him, "I've called upon you because I know that you are completely loyal to me and, for this task, that's exactly what I need. You should already know that I have been assigned to find Lucifer's chosen vessel, well I think I've found him."

Azazel gestured to a crib that he only now noticed for the first time. Inside was a small, human baby that, from what he knew about them, couldn't be more than six months old. The infant was sleeping peacefully, innocence coming off it in waves. But there was something else, the innocence was somehow tainted.

"I've feed him my blood, the child now has demon blood running through his veins," Azazel filled in the blanks, "With a little more given to him overtime he will come to crave it and, with enough of it, he will be powerful enough to become Lucifer's vessel."

Before he could fully digest this new piece of information Azazel continued on with a glint in his amber eyes, "Or powerful enough to overthrow Lucifer."

He moved back in shock. Overthrow Lucifer? What? How? Why? Azazel once again seemed to read his mind and supplied the information, "Lucifer is an Angel, a fallen Angel mind you, but an Angel nonetheless. When the sixty-six seals are broken and Lucifer wipes out humanity, the very next item on his agenda will be to destroy us Demons. That is why I want to get to him before he gets to us, but to do that I need the only one strong enough to overthrow him, his intended vessel, to be on our side. So, I am assigning you and these two to raise him, _nourish_ him and make him loyal to me."

Azazel pointedly looked at him on that last point.

"If all goes well, I will be back on his twenty-second birthday when he comes into his powers to collect."

To be honest, he thought that Azazel's plan was one of pure brilliance and he would gladly follow Azazel in his plans to overthrow Lucifer. But now he was wondering exactly who he would be possessing. It was obvious from the resemblance that the other two possessed human's where the baby's parents, so where would he fit into this. Azazel seemed to follow his trail of thoughts - _and seriously how did he do that -_ as he clicked his figures and the other male left the room only to return moments later with a small body in his arms.

As the other demon placed the body on the floor and stepped back, he was able to get a good look at his future meat suit. He would have scoffed at it if he weren't afraid of offending Azazel. The body was that of a small boy, no more than four years old, his pale skin and blue lips tell tale signs of the life snuffed out of it. At that moment he felt completely humiliated. Did Azazel not see him as being competent enough to handle a fully-grown body? Sure this would be his first possession, but a child?

Once again from the family resemblance he assumed that the boy was the baby's big brother. And then it hit him. _Big_ _brother_. As the baby grew so would his meat suit. By the time the baby was twenty-two his meat suit would be roughly twenty-six. If planned right, he would most likely have the most influence over the baby out of all of them. He could see the clear amusement in the other two demons eyes as they looked down at the skinny body, well fuck them, he was given a task and he would not fail Azazel, no matter how pathetic his soon-to-be body was at this point in time.

"So are you willingly to accept this task?" Azazel asked, although from the look in his eyes he already knew the response.

In confirmation, he moved towards the lifeless child and poured down the boy's mouth. He could feel himself take over the boy's body as his once hollowed essence became corporeal. He opened the boy's eyes and gingerly stood up. Now being a good two-foot smaller than the other three demons made him feel extremely self-conscious and he looked to the ground. A strong, calloused hand suddenly grasped his chin, forcing his head up where he was met with Azazel's burning eyes.

"This is your body now. There is nothing to be ashamed of. You will grow and teach Sam everything he needs to know, is that understood?"

He gulped and answered with the boy's timid, high voice, "Yes, Sir."

Azazel smiled, "Good. This is John and this is Mary." He pointed to the other man and woman respectively. "These are Dean and Sam's parents."

"Dean?"

"Yes, Dean. That's you now. Usually Demons can access their meat suit's memories as soon as they possess them but since this _is_ your first possession it may take a bit longer. All you need to know for now is that your name is Dean Winchester, your parent's names are John and Mary Winchester and your little brother is Sam Winchester."

He nodded in response then looked over at the crib that held his little brother, "May I?"

Azazel nodded, "Of course. He's your responsibility now, Deano"

He rushed over to the crib and climbed into it, kneeling beside the infant. The baby had opened its eyes to find out what had disrupted its sleep and he...Dean was greeted with a smile and happy gurgling. A strange feeling fluttered deep in his being causing him to smile back at his baby brother.

"Hiya Sammy," he whispered, "I'm Dean."

_TBC..._

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><p><em>AN: So I'm not really that happy with this chapter's dialogue. I needed to explain what was going on but I never could get the characters' speech to flow right for me, oh well. I thought I'd also just say that this story will be gen, in case you were wondering._

_Next part will be up within 3 days but I'll push it out in tomorrow if a few people review ;)_


	3. Chapter 3

_Warnings: Language, depiction of child abuse.  
><em>_Disclamier: I don't own 'em. _

__A/N:I would also just like to say a big thank you to **beyondtired **and **dulcinea54** for reviewing my last two chapters.__

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><p><em><em>The choice he'd made he could not comprehend - Within Temptation<em>_

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><p><strong>Lawrence<strong>**, Kansas  
>1983 <strong>

Sitting against the bed in his room, Dean's finger traced Azazel's sigil that had been branded into his chest. He, Mary and John all had the exact same brand although Azazel had left before the nitty-gritty details could be sorted out and he hadn't been able to ask what the mark was specifically for.

Once Azazel had bid his goodbyes, both Mary and John had headed downstairs leaving Dean alone to investigate his new living quarters.

The fog in his head was gone and more and more of his meat suit's memories were making themselves known. He knew how distant John had been recently, how upset Mary had appeared and how confused he'd felt because of it. He quickly shook off the strange flipping feeling those thoughts did to his stomach and made his way downstairs.

Entering the kitchen, he was greeted with the sight of John pushing Mary up against the kitchen counter, face mashed up against hers and hands roaming under her clothes.

He coughed loudly, "So you two already know each other?"

Without breaking away from each other, both Mary and John looked at him like he was some petulant child and that was getting really old, really quick, he wasn't actually a child, he just looked like one. Obviously they didn't see it like that by the Mary smirked and said, "Children should be seen, not heard."

Dean barked out a laugh, "Oh come off it, you know I'm not a child so why don't you just cut that shit out right the fuck now."

The next thing he felt was an explosion of pain spread across his face and the cold, hard floor against his back as he made contact with the ground. He looked up to see John staring down at him with a cold look on his face but amusement clear in his eyes, "Don't talk to your mother like that, wouldn't wanna teach _Sammy _any nasty habits, now would we?" he mocked.

Dean cringed at the pointed _Sammy_. He never meant to give the kid a nickname, it just kinda slipped out.

"I didn't know part of Azazel's task was to slap me around."

"It wasn't, I just like doin' it. You think you're so special, don't ya? Quickly moving through the ranks as Azazel's lil' prodigy. But up here, while you're bound to that skinny-ass body, you answer to me, boy. Got that?"

"What do ya mean bound?"

John pulled down the collar of his shirt to reveal his own tattoo-like branding, "You didn't think this was just for decoration, now did ya? Azazel bound us to these bodies and only he can release us. Think of it as a fail-safe in case any noisy hunters catch wind of us and try out an exorcism."

Dean shivered slightly at the idea of actual hunters finding them. He'd heard stories in Hell about how they'd torture demons for information only to send them back down to the Pit when they had what they wanted. As a demon with no real-life experiences he'd often let his imagination run wild on him, thinking about what kind of torture techniques these Hunters would use.

So caught up in his own mind Dean nearly missed the rest of what John had to say.

"Hell, there still may be some of Mary's family out there who might wanna case trouble."

"Mary's family were hunters?" he whispered, stomach flipping again.

Mary finally moved from here watchful position atop the kitchen bench and sauntered across to Dean, clasping his chin in one of her delicate hands, "Hmm, a story for when you're older I think."

Dean shoved her hand away with a snarl, "Fuck off. I don't need either of you treating me like some petulant child that has no business being here. I earned the respect of Azazel and I earned my right to be here just as much as you two."

Mary looked thoughtful for a moment, her fingers coming up to run through his shaggy mop of hair. As though a switch had suddenly been flicked, her face distorted into something cruel and her hand tightened around a chunk of hair, throwing him into the back wall. Before he could even gather his bearings he was being pulled by his hair again towards the kitchen counter. His struggles to escape proved futile against Mary's superior strength as she flung him into the counter before kicking him repeatedly in the stomach.

After a few minutes she stopped, seemingly satisfied with her work, and strolled over to where John had been overlooking the beating.

"John and I are going to bed now. Clean this mess you've made up and check on _Sammy._ Do what you want after that."

Interlocking their hands, the pair turned and made their way up the stairs to the bedroom.

For a few minutes after they'd left, Dean remained on the floor coughing up blood and trying to regain enough strength to heave himself up. A quiet cry echoing from Sam's nursery was the boost Dean needed to pick himself up off the floor and head up the stairs to Sam before the noise disrupted John or Mary.

Entering the nursery, he could see Sam's tiny form squirming around in his crib and making small squeaks and whines. He quickly climbed up onto the stepping stool next to the crib and peered down at the little boy.

"Shh..shh...Be quiet, okay? You don't wanna annoy the others, kiddo."

Sam noticed his presence and his cries began to lessen as Dean traced his right hand softly up and down the child's side.

"I've gotta clean up the kitchen now, Sammy. But I'll be back in a bit to check on you."

Turning to head out of the room, he startled slightly when a tiny, warm hand grasped his thumb. He swiveled back to be greeted with a smiling face, genuinely happy to be in Dean's company. A warm feeling enveloped his chest at the first sign of pure, honest affection he'd ever been given.

Smiling back he enclosed the tiny fist in his own, "Go to sleep, Sammy. I'll be back soon."

He reluctantly left the room and crawled back down the stairs to clean up the blood left on the kitchen floor. As he did, he contemplated what his life would be like here. If he didn't keep his head down he could see quite a few future beatings being handed out to his body. Strangely enough, it wasn't the beatings themselves that he feared (he'd been disciplined with enough of those in Hell), but rather the idea of not being at his best to care for Sam. With that in mind, he promise himself that starting tomorrow he'd play it safe, shut up, and give John and Mary no reason or chances to take their anger out on him.

That night Dean cut his hair.

_TBC..._

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><p><em>Please let me know what you think.<em>


	4. Chapter 4

_Warnings: Mentions of child abuse.  
><em>

_Disclaimer: I don't own 'em._

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><p><em>Please forgive me for the sorrow, for leaving you in fear<br>For the dreams we had to silence, that's all they'll ever be - Within Temptation_

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><p><strong> Chapter 4<strong>

**Lawrence, Kansas  
><strong>**1986**

"De, stor-we?"

Dean looked up from his magazine to see Sam standing at the base of his bed, storybook clutched tightly against his chest.

"Where are Mom and Dad?"

"Out. Stor-we pwease, De."

Dean exaggerated a sigh, "Fine. Get in your bed and I'll be there in a minute."

"Yay!" Sam squealed and raced back to his room.

Dean couldn't pinpoint exactly when it happened, but at some point down the line Sam had started coming into his room and asking for a story before bedtime. After a few more requests by Sam and a few bumbling attempts at stories that were probably less than appropriate for tiny years, Dean had finally relented and broke into the local library, stealing a dozen children's books for Sam. He reasoned to himself that it simply wouldn't do for Azazel's prodigy to be without an imagination and illiterate, but one look at Sam's awe-struck face when he unloaded the books onto the kid's bed and that reasoning went out the window.

By the time he entered Sam's room the kid was already comfortable under the covers, storybook resting in his lap.

"Shove over, kiddo."

Sam obediently did so and Dean shuffled onto the bed next to him.

"What book do we have tonight, Sammy?"

Sam held up the book for Dean to see, "It's the Ugly Ducking, De."

"Ugly Duck-_ling, _Sam," Dean corrected.

"Yeah, that's what I said." Sam said, affronted.

"Sorry, must have heard you wrong, " Dean smirked, "Okay let's get this show on the road."

Before he'd even finished the book Sam had zonked out. A small smiled graced his lips as he watched Sammy sleep. No matter what happened during the day Sam always seemed so peaceful and content in his dreams.

He quietly put the book down on the nightstand and left the room only to be greeted by Mary leaning against the opposite wall, duffle bag in hand and a nasty smirk on her face.

Not willing to give her an opening to mock him for reading the kid a bedtime story, Dean cut right to the chase, "You're back early."

Mary tossed the duffle bag at Dean who barely managed to catch it before it hit the floor.

"Pack up, we're leaving," Mary said before turning to walk back down the stairs.

"What? Why?"

"Because people are starting to ask questions about us. I mean, did you really think this would be permanent? Now wake the kid and get ready."

Within an hour, they were roaring out of the driveway in the Impala, only the essentials stuffed into several duffle bags. Dean was in the back with Sam sleeping against his shoulder.

The poor kid had been so confused, not understanding where they were going in the middle of the night and still half asleep when Dean finally put him in the car.

Swivelling his head Dean manage one final look at the house, a strange feeling of sadness overtaking him as he said goodbye to the place he'd called home for the past three years.

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><p><strong>Stillwater, Oklahoma<br>****1990**

Dean was preparing lunch, manoeuvring around the duffle bags Mary and John had tossed carelessly onto the floor before taking their make-out session into the lounge room. They'd recently moved into another random house in another random location and so far hadn't bothered unpacking.

Just as he was about to call out to the other two that lunch was ready, Sam burst through the front door, holding his full backpack against his chest.

"Dean! Dean I got my books!"

Hearing the ruckus, Mary and John entered the kitchen both looking dishevelled. John fetched them both a cup of coffee and sat down at the table next to Mary.

"Now what kinda books could you possible need." Mary inquired.

"They are my school books."

John raised an eyebrow, "Oh yeah, when exactly did you start going to school?"

"Dean enrolled me last week! He said that since I'm almost seven I should be in school," Sam said almost jumping with glee.

John smirked behind his coffee mug, "Did he now?"

Undeterred Sam continued, "Yep."

"Did Dean ask_ us_ if it was okay for you to go to school?"

Sam faltered, "Um no, I, I don't think so."

Sensing what this was leading to he quickly added, "But it's not his fault. I kept bugging him 'til he would do it."

Sam could see Dean wince from where he stood behind John. They both knew what would happen next and Sam braced himself.

Sliding out of his chair, John walked over to Sam until he was toe-to-toe with the boy.

"You know, Sammyboy, it's not nice to bother your big brother."

"M'sorry, sir," Sam mumbled towards the floor.

John grasped Sam's tiny shoulder firmly with his hand, squeezing tightly until a soft gasp of pain escaped the boy's lips, "Too late to be sorry, Sammyboy. Now I want you to go down to the basement and wait for me there."

Sam paled, eyes glistening with unshed tears, knowing what was to come. Mary and John always delivered their worst beatings in the basement, where they didn't have to worry about neighbours hearing Sam's screams.

"Yes, s-sir."

As he walked towards the basement, Sam's eyes zoned in on Dean who deliberately turned his head away from Sam's silent plea for help. He wasn't stupid enough to go against the others and Sam had gotten himself into this anyway, he should've known better. At least, that's what Dean tried to convince himself.

Hours later, Dean was unpacking his things in their room – Mary and John and long ago decided it was cheaper just to rent a house with two rooms instead of three – when he heard Sam staggering across the threshold.

He waited until Sam collapsed on his bed, face mashed into the pillow, before he chanced a look at the damage. Sam's legs and arms were covered in red bruising and shallow cuts. There were also a few burn marks that had already started to blister. Dean could only imagine what the kid's face looked like.

"Sammy, why'd you have 'ta go and make a scene like that, huh?"

"I was just excited. I didn't think they'd care."

Dean slammed his bag down in frustration "Of course they care, Sam! You think you can run 'round all excited like that and they're not gonna use that against you! Emotions make you weak, that's the first thing you learn in Hell."

"Wh...what do 'ya mean 'learn in Hell'?"

Damn it.

"Nothing, just go to sleep."

Interest piqued, Sam instead sat up in his bed, "No. I want you to tell me what you meant by that."

"Trust me, you don't wanna know."

"Stop it! Stop treating me like a little kid, Dean and just tell me!"

So Dean did. He knew that it was only a matter of time before Sam found out about the supernatural, about his destiny and that his 'parents' weren't just abusive assholes. John and Mary had wanted to tell him as soon as he could understand words but Dean reasoned that the kid shouldn't be told until he was at an age that he could process the information better.

"_You don't wanna have to explain it to him more than once,"_ he'd argued to which they'd grudgingly agreed.

By the time he'd finished Sam had lost all colour in his face, tears were threatening to fall and he was trembling badly.

"So m-my family, my _real_ family, is de-dead? And I'm...what? Just some toy for this de-demon to use?"

Wrecked from the talk, Dean didn't have the energy to sugar coat it, "Yes. I'm so sorry, Sammy."

"No! Don't you dare call me that! You're not my br-brother! My brother died when he was four years old, you're just some _thing_ wearing his face! I hate you!" With that Sam turned his back to Dean and feigned sleep, although his shoulders shook with silent sobs.

With Sam appearing to be done, Dean laid down in his own bed, more than ready to sink into oblivion. Just as he was on the brink of sleep Sam's tiny whisper brought him back.

"You coulda helped me today."

Dean sighed, "No, I couldn't." _Not yet_ something whispered at the back of his mind but he ignored it and let sleep take him.

_TBC..._

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><p><em>So what do you think? Please review :)<em>


	5. Chapter 5

_Warnings: Mentions of child and animal abuse.  
>Disclaimer: I don't own 'em.<em>

_A/N: I'm so sorry for how long it took me to post this. I wasn't happy with parts so I kept tweaking it and then real life got busy. But, I finished my last assignment for uni just a few hours ago and I have my final exam on Friday and then I have all the time in the world to work on this :)  
><em>

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><p><em>Was it worth the ones we loved and had to leave behind? - Within Temptation <em>

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><p><strong>Chapter 5<strong>

**Flagstaff, Arizona  
>1997<strong>

Sam fought to hold back the tears, as John continued his brutal assault.

"Can't remember the last time I handed out a good beating to you, Sammyboy."

It was late in the afternoon. Mary was out 'enjoying herself' as John called it and Dean was on a supply run, leaving Sam alone to face John's wrath.

The beating had come out of nowhere, Sam no longer being asked to head down to the basement. Not long after Dean had told him the truth about his family, Sam, out of spite, had started to try and hold back the tears and screams that he would usually let loose during the torture.

Before Dean even unlocked the door he could hear John's taunts, the sure sign of another Sam beating. Sighing, Dean entered the rundown house. He found them in the kitchen where John was towering above a shaking Sam, the tip of his right steel-capped boot covered in blood. Sam's blood.

"Okay, don't you think that's about enough for today," Dean asked as he dropped the bag of groceries on the kitchen bench, hoping that John would let up.

Instead, John just smirked, "Nah, I think we've been too easy on the boy." Kick to the chest. "He needs to remember his place." Kick to the stomach.

Dean shrugged, trying to pull off nonchalant, "If you say so, but I don't think Azazel will appreciate his young prodigy being mentally-handicapped from getting kicked one too many times in the head.

That made John pause before delivering one final kick to the stomach, "Fine. I was getting bored with the little shit anyway. Might go out and find what the old ball and chain is up to," he chuckled before pointing at Dean, "You make sure this is all tidied up before we get back, you understand?"

Gritting his teeth, Dean replied a 'yes sir' as John headed out the door. Turning to Sam, Dean sighed as he watched the battered teen struggle to get to his feet.

"Aw Sammy, let me help you."

Before he could even make contact, Sam flinched back, "I don't need your help, _Dean_. Just leave me alone. Please."

"Fine. At least let me get the first-aid kit for you."

"Whatever," was the muttered reply.

With a terse nod, Dean headed upstairs in search of the first-aid kit.

As soon as he had ascended the staircase and was out of Sam's line of vision, Dean put his back against the wall and sank to the floor. No matter how many times he saw it, Dean could never quell the wrongness he felt deep within his being whenever he witnessed the severe emotional and physical abuse both John and Mary put Sam through on a regular basis.

Gathering himself, Dean fetched the kit from the bathroom cabinet before clamouring back down the stairs.

"So what made John snap this...Sam?" He trailed off as he took in the empty kitchen.

"Sam where..." And that's when he noticed the note sitting innocently on the kitchen bench. Never before had three letters made his stomach drop and his heart jump into his throat. _Bye._

Gripping the note tightly, Dean sprinted to the front door and slammed it open, looking out into the neighbourhood.

"Sammy? Sam?"

Sam shifted the backpack for the umpteenth time since exiting the pet store. Even after four days the bruises on his back still felt as fresh as when he'd been dealt them. His usual light backpack housed a variety of doggy treats he'd stolen from the local pet shop. Although he hated the fact that John, Mary and even Dean ran credit card scams and hustled pool instead of getting normal honest jobs, Sam couldn't come up with any others means of ensuring his new friend stayed well-fed.

He'd not so much found the dog as the dog had found him. Headed to his temporary living quarters, hands full of the bounty he'd acquired thanks to a faulty vending machine, he'd crashed over a bundle of fur sending cans of softdrink flying. The furry mass that had stopped him in his tracks, quite literally, turned out to be a beautiful golden retriever. He'd never really had the opportunity to play with any types of animals and the only information relating to dogs that Dean could give him was on Black Dogs and Hellhounds. Needless to say, Sam wasn't jumping at the chance to meet one of those beasts. But Bones (as he later named him) was something else entirely. As soon as Sam hit the pavement the dog was all over him, tail thumping against Sam's raised knee as it happily slobbered all over his face. When Sam had tried to part ways with the canine, it had simply seen it as permission to follow him back to the abandoned house he currently occupied.

Entering the house, Sam rustled his backpack, expecting the canine to come thundering across the room in search of his newly 'bought' treats.

"Bones, I'm back! I gotcha something special boy."

When the dog still didn't appear Sam crouched down with the tennis ball, tossing it between his hands.

"Bones! Hey, come 'ere, boy."

He watched in silent horror as the shadow of what he'd assumed to be his dog grow and the body of John Winchester stalked out of the shadows.

"Hiya, Sammyboy. Did ya miss me?"

"How'd you...? Wh-where's Bones? Where's my dog?"

John shrugged, "Last I checked, Mary was playing with him out back."

Tears started to well up in Sam's eyes, he knew what John meant by 'playing'.

John quietly stalked up to the shaking teen, hands coming up to rest on the boy's narrow shoulders.

"Now, you're going to get in the car and we're gonna go home," John said passively before squeezing Sam's shoulders hard enough for the bones to protest, "And then we're gonna have some real fun."

Although pain shot through his shoulders, with the fate of Bones bearing heavily on Sam's mind he could do little more than give a stiff nod and be led out by John.

Once outside, John opened the car door and shoved him into the back of the Impala, "Now don't you dare move until I get back with your mother."

Sam's breath hitched at the reminder that Mary was currently doing God-knows-what to Bones. A shift in the seat drew is attention to a bruised and battered Dean slumped over against the opposite door.

"Dean? What happened to you?"

When Dean turned to face him Sam couldn't help but flinch back. He'd never seen that look in Dean's eyes before. The pure anger he saw deep within those green orbs frightened him beyond belief and for first time, he caught a glimpse of what all those souls must have seen as Dean carved into them back in Hell.

"What do you think happened, Sam? John and Mary come home to find you've disappeared under my watch and you don't think I'm gonna cop it?" Dean spat.

"I'm sorry, Dean. I didn't think they'd do anything to you."

"Not as sorry as you're gonna be," Dean whispered back, malice lacing his words.

"Dean, do you know what they did to Bones? My dog?"

Dean chuckled, "You don't own a dog, Sam. You don't own anything. You're nothing more than a possession of Azazel's.

"Dean, please. Stop it..."

"No! I've tried, Sam. I may not be able to save you from this life but I've always been there for you and you've spat it back in my face every time."

Sam snapped his mouth shut. He hadn't realized just how much he'd hurt Dean. Ever since he'd learnt the truth about his family Sam had continuously pushed Dean away, so caught up on the lies Dean had been involved in feeding him that he didn't notice Dean trying to make amends. And now his actions had brought harm upon Dean.

Hanging his head in guilt Sam whispered, "You're right. I really am sorry, Dean. For everything."

Dean's resolve fractured at Sam's heartfelt apology. He didn't really blame Sam for how he'd acted towards him or even for the beating he'd been dealt when John and Mary got back, more than anything he was hurt that Sam left without even saying anything to him.

"I know you are Sam. But that doesn't change the fact that you are gonna get punished when we get home and I-I can't do anything to stop it."

Sam was about to reply that it was okay when John and Mary folded into the car. At the sight of the blood staining Mary's hands, tears silently cascaded down Sam's cheeks as he wordlessly sent an apology to Bones.

Dean entered their small bedroom, first-aid kit in hand. Sam was face down on the far bed, back bare and exposing the myriad of bruises and shallow cuts that he'd been inflicted by Mary and John when they arrived home. Dean carefully sat on the edge of Sam's bed, being mindful not to bump the teen as he examined the boy's mess of a back. Wordlessly, Dean took the swabs and antiseptic from the kit and began to disinfect the wounds.

"Dean, why are you helping me?"

The question made Dean pause. Why was he helping Sam? Only a few hours ago he was mocking Sam about the punishment John and Mary had in store.

He did everything for the kid, everything. He read to him, tended his wounds, hell he even took beatings for the kid and yet Sam had left him, probably didn't even give a second thought as to what would happen to Dean. So, yes, Dean was bitter and spiteful and had wanted Sam to suffer for it. But as soon as the punishment began, he had to leave. Not able to bear listening to Sam's choked sobs.

So why was he helping Sam? He wanted to say that it was his job, but it really wasn't, not to this extent. As long as the wounds didn't get infected Azazel wouldn't care about a few scars, hell, he'd probably admire them.

"Because. You're my little brother."

_TBC..._

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><p><em>Reviews are loved :)<em>


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